


Thunderstorms

by Strength_in_pain



Series: John and his boys [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Sam Winchester, Gen, John Winchester Tries, John Winchester and Sam Winchester Fight, Kid Winchesters (Supernatural), Pizza, Thunderstorms, Weechesters, no hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 19:40:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/pseuds/Strength_in_pain
Summary: Dean saw Sam shift around in the bed next to him. His high-tuned big brother ears could hear the faintest whimper from Sammy. He absentmindedly reached a hand out to Sam’s, sighing when his younger brother squeezed back.“You okay, Sammy?”Thunder boomed, and Sam yelped. Squeezing his brother’s hand tighter, Sam began sniffling.





	Thunderstorms

> **Wyndham Hotel, Pearl River, Louisiana. 1990. Dean 11, Sam 7.**

It was a warm day, a shockingly humid afternoon. The heat would bounce off the streets, and cause an illusion of wavering images. It was one of those days when the perspiration would surface on a person’s forehead, cheeks, and the bridge of ones nose. 

Dean and Sam were practically dying in the summer heat as they drove in the black impala. Why did it have to be black? Sam had complained the entire time feeling like he was baked alive. Finally, their father, John Winchester, stopped at a hotel in Pearl River Louisiana. He bought the boys and himself a few water bottles and now they were all hanging out at the hotel pool. 

Dean could feel the coolness of the pool, even before he flick the water with his hand, sending droplets scattering over the surface like rain. Dean and Sam wasted little time stripping to their underwear and jumping in. They were floating around the cool water, allowing it to drink away their body heat. It felt so refreshing neither of them wanted to leave. 

A half-an-hour later, the blue sky darkened, to a grayish- black. 

“Come on boys. It’s time to go in. I think it’s going to rain.” John said, stepping out of the pool and drying himself off with a hotel provided towel. 

“But Dadddd.” Dean and Sam whined simultaneously. John groaned inwardly. He hated when his children complained. Why couldn’t they just obey him? Dean usually did, but sometimes, if Sam was on his side, Dean would keep up the fight a little while longer. 

“Out of the pool.” John ordered sternly, looking directly at his eldest son, Dean, knowing the boy would listen. 

He was right, because soon enough Dean was out of the pool and drying off. He didn’t miss the look of betrayal on Sam’s face. 

“Samuel. Out of the pool.” John yelled. 

“Why.” His brave seven-year-old questioned. 

“Because I said so.” John replied. 

“That’s not a good reason.” Sam mumbled. 

“Excuse me?” John asked, placing his hands on his hips. 

“I said, that’s not a good reason. Why should I do something just because you say so.”

“Because I’m your father.” John said running a pruned hand over his tired eyes. 

“So? I didn’t ask for you to be my father.” Sam said. John’s face turned a dark red. His hands clenched into tight fists as he eyed Sam oppressively. Luckily, Dean swooped in to save the day. 

“You have to get out because if it storms then you could get electrocuted.” Dean said, rolling his eyes, “Electricity passes through water, dumbass.” 

Satisfied with that answer, Sam climbed out of the pool. He grabbed a towel from the shelf while stealing a cautious look at his father. John was still angry, but his blood pressure returned back to normal so he wasn’t sporting a red face anymore. 

“Sam, how many times do I have to tell you, if I give you an order, you follow it.” John lectured. 

“But Dad, Why couldn’t you just tell me about the electrocution like Dean did. I would’ve listened then.” 

“I shouldn’t have to explain myself.” John said, “you should trust me enough to listen to what I tell you.” 

“But I like explanations for things.” Sam whined. 

“Too bad, buddy boy. I take care of you. I feed you. I clothe you. I pay for a roof over your head, even if it’s a shitty hotel roof, so I expect you to listen to me.” 

Sam stomped his foot. “It’s not fair. I’m too young to get a job. I’m only seven. If I was old enough I wouldn’t need you to do that stuff for me.”

“Sammy,” Dean said, trying to diffuse the situation, “I think what Dad’s trying to say, is he has your best interests in mind. He’s worried about your safety all the time so when he tells you to do something it’s to keep you safe. You should just know that.”

“Thank you, Dean.” His father said. Knowing he lost the battle, Sam scuffed his feet against the pavement. 

The family walked past the hotel lobby which had the same odor as an old folks home. The floor carpet was a decade too old and the large windows had heavy drapes covered in dirt. _Yeah, Dad certainly didn’t waste any money on this place,_ Dean thought impudently.  

When they got upstairs to their room, Dad used the key card to enter. He flicked on the lights, then tossed his towel on the bathroom rack. Dean and Sam grabbed their duffle bags, rummaging around for their clothes. 

Sam pulled out his soft, dull-blue, plaid shirt and black sweatpants. It was going to be nightfall in a few hours so he figured he’d get ready for bed. Apparently, Dean had the same idea because he settled on a grey Henley and red sweatpants. Dad wanted to kill Dean for buying those sweats, but Dean loved them. He wore them every night. It’s too bad he’s only eleven and will eventually outgrow the red sweats because honestly, Sam could see Dean wearing those for the rest of his life. 

“Hey boys, I’m going to get us some pizza for dinner. Stay here. lock the doors. don’t let anyone in.” 

“We know, Dad.” Dean said quietly. He was still reaching in the duffle bag when John left so Sam locked the door behind his father. 

“Hey Dean? Why does Dad worry about our safety?” 

Dean scoffed, “cause he’s a _Dad_. It’s his job.” 

“Yeah but he’s like really, _really_ worried. Like he thinks somethings after us.” Sam watched Dean stand up after finding his black boxer-briefs. Sam himself, found his teenage mutant ninja turtle underoos and they both headed toward the bathroom. 

“Nothing’s after us, Sammy. But there are bad things in the world and Dad just wants to keep us safe. What’s so wrong about that?”

“What kind of bad things?” Sam pressed. He bit his lip, knowing that these types of questions could make Dean angry. He has approach the sensitive subject with caution. His brother was staring at him with an indecipherable look. 

“I don’t know,” Dean said, “just bad things. Like being electrocuted for example. Or gee, I don’t know, maybe a serial killer!” 

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s brazen attitude. “Fine. But why does Dad have to be so strict.” 

“Oh Sammy stop picking on, Dad. I didn’t see him bust your butt or anything. All he did was tell you to listen to him.” 

“He was mean and you’re taking his side!” Sam cried, pouty lip sticking out. Dean could resist the lip. He could. But not the eyes. And damnit Sam had the puppy-dog-eyes. 

“I’m not taking his side. Look Sammy, all I’m saying is, it’s over now. So let’s move on and get dressed because I am freezing.” Leave it to Dean to change the sensitive conversation topic into something more pleasant. “Seriously? Do they have he air conditioning blasting at full volume? I think the water is freezing to my thighs.” 

Sam laughed. “I guess you should get dressed first then, Mr. Icicle.” 

Dean took full advantage of the opportunity. He emerged from the bathroom in his warm Henley and sweatpants. Sam quickly followed. 

“Dean. Where’d you put your wet clothes?” 

“In the bathtub. I figure Dad will take them down to the laundromat or the washing machine.” 

Sam threw his wet clothes in the bathtub too, then he went to join his brother on the couch. 

“It’s cool having a bigger space, isn’t it?” Sam said taking in his surroundings. He walked over to the windowsill and pulled back the curtains. He could see the parking lot. “Dean? Why do we move around so much?” 

“Sammy, you know why. Business. Now shut up or i’ll make you.” Dean warned, giving him that I’m-the-big-brother-I-can-kick-your-ass look. Sam sighed, plopping down next to Dean on the queen size bed. He stared at the T.V. show Dean was watching: Saved by the Bell. 

“Look at her. She’s in a swimsuit that fits so perfectly. God, she beautiful.” 

“Um Dean, you’re drooling.” 

The older boy rushed a hand to his chin to check if Sam was telling the truth. When he realized he wasn’t, he used that same hand to push at his brother’s face. 

“Ew! Gross.” Sam screamed as Dean shoved him down on the bed. 

“Dean!” Sam laughed as his brother started tickling his sides. “Dean! I can’t breathe.” He giggled with glee, twisting and crying out as Dean tickled him relentlessly. Eventually, he stopped when Sam started hiccuping. He sat back against the headboard, grabbing he remote off the side table, and turning up the T.v. volume. 

Zack Morris was explaining his latest scheme against Mr. Belding when the door burst open. Both Dean and Sam jumped in surprise, hearts skipping a beat, before realizing it was only their Dad. 

“Jeez, Dad. You scared the crap out of us.” Dean said, getting up from the bed to help carry the drinks. They were in a cup-holder so his father could very well handle it, but Dean wanted to help in any way possible. To Sam, that was just another way of Dean taking his Father’s side. 

“Did you get the pepperoni and bacon?” Dean asked hopefully. His electric green-eyes lighting up with bliss at the sight of the large pizza in his Father’s hands. 

John chuckled while setting the pizza in the middle of the table. “Yes. I also added some sausage.” 

“Awesome.” Dean said. He grabbed the paper plates out of his Dad’s hand, then hastily set the table. Sam joined his family, sitting next to Dean. 

“I got one pizza with spinach just for you Sammy.” His father said, placing a slice of pizza on his plate. He thanked his father then started eating. Within ten minutes, Dean was on his third slice. John shook his head. “Jesus Dean, slow down. You’d think I’ve starved you.”  

“‘orry Dad,” Dean said with a large chunk of pizza hanged out of his mouth, sauce dribbling down his chin, “I really like pizza.” 

“He really likes food in general.” Sam laughed. He winced when Dean shoveled another piece in his mouth, gnawing down on the bread like a carnivorous animal.  

“You’re a growing kid.” John said, he pulled out a napkin from the pizza box and handed it to his messy son. “I remember when I was your age, I ate out my house. My mom was so mad, she would have to work twice as hard and still, by the end of the month we didn’t have any money. Needless to say, she kept secret draws full of food solely for herself.”

Dean finally finished chewing enough to speak and he went off on his favorite types of food. 

“Okay, But let’s talk dessert.” John said, taking a sip of his Pepsi. “What’s your favorite?” 

Dean shrugged, “I like them all.” Sam and John both laughed at that. 

“All right. Let’s play a game. Ready?” John asked. Both Dean and Sam nodded. 

“Cake or ice cream?” 

“Ice cream.” Dean said. Sam agreed. 

“Okay. Brownies or Pie?” 

“Pie.” Dean said. Sam agreed. 

“I’m seeing some similar taste buds between you two.” John said, smiling, “I guess that’s a brother thing. How about donuts or chocolate-chip cookies?” 

“Aw Dad, now you’re just being cruel.” Dean whined. 

“Cookies.” Sam said. 

“I think I’m going to go with donuts.” Dean replied. 

“Interesting.” John pondered for a moment. “So ice cream or donuts?” 

“Ice cream.” Both boys said. 

“Pie or cookies?”

“Pie.” they both answered. 

“Pie or ice cream?” 

“Pie.” Dean concluded. 

“Ice cream.” Sam said. 

“There you have it. Dean your favorite dessert is Pie and Sam your favorite is ice-cream.” John said clapping his hands together. 

It didn’t take long to clean up. Once they were done, John crammed himself in a small desk space to do hours of research. He planned on working throughout the night so he made sure to brew a large cup of coffee.

Dean and Sam watched T.v. for a while, until Dad told them to go to bed. It was about 9:30pm when they shut the lights and T.V. out. Only then could they hear the pouring rain. What started as a high winded storm, with a strong downfall of rain had built into the worst storm ever. The wind wasn’t howling, it was screaming. The rain was merciless, torrential. The trees were creaking and bending. There was a brilliant flash that flickered and died outside of the window. It was not a bolt, streaking to earth, but more like an almighty camera flash that blanketed everything at once. Moments later there was the rumbling thunder right on cue. 

Dean saw Sam shift around in the bed next to him. His high-tuned big brother ears could hear the faintest whimper from Sammy. He absentmindedly reached a hand out to Sam’s, sighing when his younger brother squeezed back. 

“You okay, Sammy?” 

Thunder boomed, and Sam yelped. Squeezing his brother’s hand tighter, Sam began sniffling. 

“Hey Sammy, calm down. It’s just a storm. It can’t hurt you.” 

Dean noticed Sam was shaking. But John was just reading his journal, as if he didn't care. This made Sam feel even more pathetic. His father just lectured him on being safe and Sam had said he didn’t need John to make him feel safe. 

John was sipping his coffee, rereading the lore on witches. But his son’s sniffling was affecting his concentration. How could Sam be afraid of the rain? The Rain for Christ’s sake. 

"Are you sure you're okay, Sammy?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded and gave a weak smile. But Dean didn't buy it. He stood up and ruffled Sam’s hair, before walking to the window. He studied the clouds as lightning flashed. He  heard Sam’s second yelp and frowned. 

"It's just a storm." John murmured, standing up from his desk. “Nothing to be afraid of. Now go to sleep.” He sat by Sam’s bedside tucking him under the covers. 

"I know. I'm not scared." Sam growled.

John looked at Sam as he looked out the window. His eyes were wide and glistening. John felt bad for him immediately. But instead of admitting that, he just studied Sam’s features.

Sam’s eyes, even though wide with fear, still had that fire in them, like golden suns. His chestnut hair, the bangs especially, were laying on the side of his perfect face. Damn, Sam was going to be a hot-headed young teenager, just like John.  

A crack of thunder made Dean and Sam flinch. John scowled at the clouds for scaring his children. Poor Sam was shivering under the covers. Not from being cold, but from being afraid. 

"Don't worry. The storm will pass soon." He said. 

John walked back to his desk and tried to read the lore. But the storm and his thoughts about his kids distracted him.

The storm picked up, throwing tree limbs around, and the buckets of rain would not stop falling. What was the ocean trying to dump itself on this tiny hotel? 

Suddenly, the lights started to flicker. All three Winchester’s heart rates sped up. All for different reasons. Sam was afraid of the dark, Dean was afraid it was a spirit, and John was afraid it was the thing that killed his wife coming back to kill his children. It was John’s worse nightmare he played over and over again in his head. Soon, the lights stopped working altogether. It was black, except for the occasion lightning across the sky. Dean whimpered a quiet, “Dad.” And Sam began to cry. 

John was shaking now too, patently instincts kicking into overdrive. He pulled out his pistol from behind his belt. Carefully, John searched the room, telling his boys to stay still. He found his box of salt and proceeded to make a giant circle around Sam’s bed. 

He ordered Dean to get in Sam’s bed. 

"Calm down, Sammy." Dean had relaxed once he heard his commanding officers voice also know as his Dad. They stared out the window, watching the storm. Sam was still shaking. He couldn't get over this bad feeling in his gut.

After there was an uncomfortable silence. Sam closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down. But then, the loudest clap of thunder he'd ever heard scared him. He was so scared that he jump into Dean’s lap, hiding his head into his chest.

Dean was stunned. But he recovered and wrapped his arms around his little brother. “It's okay, Sammy. Big brother’s gotcha. Dad’s right here. Everything’s gonna be all right.” 

John came back to the bed and told Dean to scoot over so he could lie down. He placed his gun on the bedside table then laid his head on the pillow. 

Dean laid pressed against Sam until John was settled and no longer in danger of toppling off the edge. Dean wrapped one arm around Sam, already drifting off to sleep with his head pillowed against John’s shoulder. When John finally situated, he draws Sam away from Dean to him instead. It isn’t much of a change, except that Dean’s arm slips from Sam’s waist until only his hand is curled around the curve of Sam’s hip, an everlasting reminder that Sam is there safe with them and not all alone. 

Dean likes that Sam always needs to make sure someone—namely Dean—is there. Because, well, Dean likes the reminder, too.

Everyone exchanged their goodnights. John was so, so tired. He thinks that maybe he said them back. He isn’t entirely sure. He nuzzled his chin on top of Sam’s head keeping him, safe and protected and loved, and he drifted off to sleep almost as quickly as Dean does at his back. The last thing he remembered was Sam pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

“Love you, Daddy,” murmured Sam. His voice sounds like it’s a million kilometers away. 

John thinks he might have said it back—he hoped he did, at least, because he loves Sam, too, and Sam deserves to be reminded of that fact—but he isn’t quite certain that he did. He slept so, so well between Dean and Sam that he doesn’t ever want it to end. 

John hasn’t slept so well since after he learned about the supernatural. It is nice. It is even nicer when, halfway through the night, Dean shoved Sam closer to his Dad so that Sam isn’t in danger of falling off the bed every time he so much as breathes. Dean curled around John’s frame, and he rested his hand on top of John and Sam’s hip. They’re all three connected. Safe and together. Sleepily, John appreciated the reminder.

 


End file.
